


The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot

by hardtoconcentrate



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: A Little Bit Of Crack, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming In Pants, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, M/M, Makeup Sex, Miscommunication, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, just a little, you'll notice it when you get to it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 05:38:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4127140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardtoconcentrate/pseuds/hardtoconcentrate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After 11 months of separation, Patrick Kane is forced to have a real conversation with the man who broke his heart when Sharpy brings him over for a drinking game. Alcohol, confessions, and feelings ensue. </p><p>Inspired by the "Truth or Drink: Exes" YouTube video.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot

**Author's Note:**

> I got really mad last time the Hawks lost and had the idea to write this, and it didn't fully come to fruition until now. 
> 
> Inspired by this video, (if someone could teach me how to just hyperlink, that'd be cool) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxYpvNMbdXQ , because the first time I saw it, I was so sure that Patrick and Jonny would be that blond couple that make out in the end. 
> 
> Also inspired by an angsty mix I made for them after that loss, which I listened to on repeat while I was writing. 
> 
> https://8tracks.com/frshtequilahell/1988
> 
> Title from the Brand New song, and if you know or are any of the people featured in this story, I love you so much but please turn away now.

It starts out with a drinking game. Pat blames Sharpy.

"Truth or drink, motherfuckers!" Sharpy crows enthusiastically when Jonny follows him through Pat's doorway. Pat freezes at the sight of him, grabbing Sharpy's elbow and dragging his ear down to his lips.

"You didn't tell me you were inviting _him_ ," Pat hisses, distressed.

"That would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it," Sharpy replies, and goes back up to Jonathan, as if he was hosting them all in his own home. Pat watches him go as a pain starts up in his heart, and fuck. Jonny still looks good. He's wearing a black dress shirt and a pair of jeans that, oh god, Pat might have actually bought him. And it fits his body perfectly.

Five minutes of avoiding each other's gaze later and awkwardly listening to Sharpy vocalize his insistence that they do this, Jonny and Pat are sitting face to face at the kitchen counter, three bottles of hard liquor next to them and a shot glass in each hand.

"Here are your questions," Sharpy says with a grin, setting a little pile of flash cards face down between them, "Either you answer the question or you take a shot. Any questions?"

"Yeah. Why are we doing this again?" Jonny speaks for the first time in a frustrated voice.

"Because I'm not letting you leave until you do," Sharpy tells him sagely, and goes to lock the door before sitting back on the couch at a good spectating distance with his phone set to record. "Begin!"

Jonny and Pat both look at each other, and simultaneously reach over to the bottles to down preliminary shots.

 _There's no way I'll get through this sober_ , Pat thinks blankly.

Jonny tentatively picks up the first flash card and immediately puts it back down on the counter with a pinched expression as soon as he reads it. "Seriously, Sharpy?"

Sharpy just laughs at him. "You have to ask it, fucker."

Jonny winces, but grits out, "Do I ever pop into your head when you masturbate."

Pat can't help but laugh, though he doesn't know whether it's at the question or at the evident pain on Jonny's face.

"Hell yes," Pat leers just to be an asshole, enjoying the flush that rises on Jonny's face. "Even if you were a dick to me-"

"Hey!" "I can still appreciate your dick," Pat finishes crassly, and leans back in his seat in satisfaction.

"Next question," Jonny says with a grimace, and motions for Pat to pick up the top card.

"I dare you to take a body shot off of me???" Pat asks, in disbelief of what's written on the card. Jonny stares him down until all he can do is shrug.

"I don't care if you don't," Pat says with a half-assed smirk creeping onto his face, "Do your worst."

Jonny blinks at him slowly, and reaches over to grab the bottle of tequila. Pat hops up onto the counter and leans back against it until his head is just ducking past the edge and he could almost rub his nose against Jonny's chest if he wanted to. He tries not to giggle when Jonny pours a little shot of tequila into his belly button, but he can tell from the judgmental look on Jonny's face that his attempt to stifle it failed.

Jonny peers over from around his stomach and meets his eyes in a nonverbal question. Pat shrugs again, and Jonny leans down to suck the liquor out of his belly button slowly. Embarrassingly, the sensation makes Pat flush and cross his legs slightly in an attempt to hide an emerging semi.

Jonny coughs slightly, a blush high on his cheeks as well, and takes both his seat and another card as Pat unbends himself from the counter back onto his stool.

"Is there anything you wanted to say to me the last time we saw each other?"

Pat looks at him for a moment and clears his throat nonchalantly. "When was the last time we saw each other?" Jonny looks thoughtful and doesn't answer, but the question is just a cover. Pat knows what he wanted to say to him, no matter when it was. Ever since they broke up, Pat has wanted to say the same three words to him every time he's seen him.

Pat reaches over and silently takes his second shot of the night.

Jonny watches him with a curious look on his face, and motions Pat to pick up the next card once he's done.

Pat obliges generously, and rattles off, "Why did we break up?" He's suddenly interested in Jonny's answer, and watches Jonny's face intently.

Jonny is burning a hole into the table with his glare, and murmuring, "I wanted more. You were done."

Wait. What?

Patrick starts to protest heatedly, saying, "Jonny, you're full of shit, you're the one who-"

Sharpy cuts him off with a hand wave, saying, "None of that bullshit, keep going."

Pat shuts his mouth with a glare at Sharpy, but nods as Jonny picks up the next question.

"What do you miss most about us?" And fuck, Pat is not going to get emotional about this. He reaches for his shot glass, but hesitates.

Jonny has a different perspective on how they ended than he does, so maybe this is the time to set the record straight. Wake Jonny up and make him realize what the fuck he could have had. What he did have.

Pat drops his hand back to the table loosely, the top of his nails making a small clinking sound against the glass. "I miss everything we had. I miss how things were between us. How simple. That shit was so.... Easy. I haven't had anything like that since."

Jonny looks a little stunned, to Pat's surprise, but he doesn't say anything. What, did he expect that after just leaving for Winnipeg and leaving everything unsaid for a week, Pat wouldn't _care_?

This time, it's Jonny clearing his throat and waving towards the deck to change the subject.

"How long did it take you to get over us and what did you do to help you get over it?" Pat says when he picks up the next card, frowning.

Jonny immediately pours himself a shot, surprising Patrick again.

"I'm not touching that one with a ten-foot pole," Jonny says hoarsely, throwing the tequila back and shuddering.

"What, really?" Pat asks, curious.

"No." Jonny's answer is succinct as he picks up the next card.

"What did your friends and parents think of me?"

 _They fucking loved you and they love you still_ , Pat thinks fleetingly. He says nothing, instead silently pouring himself a shot of whiskey and drinking it bitterly. He can feel Jonny's laser gaze boring into his cheek as he looks morosely at the bottle for a second before picking a card from the quickly-shortening stack.

"If we were the last two people on earth, would we become lovers?"

 _Thank god_ , Pat thinks, _a lighter question_.

"I mean... Not much else to do at that point..." Jonny replies with a wry smirk, trailing off.

"You make it sound like a burden," Pat says, a hurt tone seeping into his voice against his hardest efforts. The alcohol is starting to get to Jonny, and Pat can tell by the way his eyes run up and down Pat's body a bit before he drily replies, "Not at all."

Jonny picks up his next question, and he looks a bit wistful when he reads out,

"Is there anything you want to apologize for?"

 _Fuck_. Pat's throat feels dry as he reaches for the bottle of tequila to pour himself a shot. Jonny looks expectant for Pat to grab his flash card once it's burned its way down his throat, but Pat just shakes his head minutely and swallows.

"I am sorry. I'm sorry for giving you the wrong idea, maybe. For making you think that... I didn't want anything else," he says quietly, staring steadfastly at the bottle of tequila as he speaks.

Pat looks towards the couch pleadingly for a chance to end this and make Jonny leave, but Sharpy somehow walked out without them noticing. Too late to turn back now anyway, really.

When he gets the courage to look back at Jonny, he's looking back at Pat with a sort of glassy look.

Pat swallows again and grabs his next card, which reads, "Where do you see us in the next ten years?"

"I don't know," Jonny murmurs, a mix of wistfulness and sadness in his voice.

".... Where do you _want_ us to be in the next ten years?" Pat probes softly, his breath catching a bit as he speaks.

Jonny takes another shot silently and refuses to meet his gaze, instead picking up another card.

"Do you regret dating me?" Jonny asks him, and it's not like Pat can lie to him at this point. Or ever, really.

"No," he whispers, shaking his head slightly, and closes his eyes to try and gather himself. Pat finally picks up the last card, and as he opens his eyes and scans it, he realizes he somehow knew it would come back to this point eventually.

"I dare you to kiss me," Pat says in an almost inaudible voice. He runs his finger along the rim of his shotglass, not knowing what to expect and looking anywhere but forward. Next thing he knows, he's got his mouth full of Jonny pressing against his lips in a needy kiss from across the counter, and he can't help but wind his hands in that prince hair and kiss back like a dying man being offered water. It's been too long.

"Jonny," Pat moans, overwrought with alcohol and emotion. Jonny pulls him tighter and licks into his mouth, and it's as if they were never apart. He can't do this.

Panting, Pat pulls away and holds Jonny's wrists tight against the counter. The look on Jonny's face can't be described as anything but frustrated, and Pat needs a second to regain his senses.

"We need to talk," he grits out, and Jonny groans.

"Can't this wait, for the love of god-" Jonny's protests fall on deaf ears as Pat shushes him. He waits for their breathing to subside a bit before taking a deep breath and opening his mouth.

"What the hell happened, Jonny?" Pat asks roughly, subtly trying adjust his already painfully hard dick through his jeans by crossing his legs. "Why are we doing this?"

He fidgets in Pat's grip, staring at his wrists, and when he looks up, Jonny's got that same glassy look in his eyes again.

"What do you want me to tell you, Kaner?" Jonny asks dully, and it's been almost a year since Pat's heard that nickname out of Jonny's mouth. Jonny hasn't called him that since The Week.

Pat's grip tightens unconsciously on Jonny's wrists at his words until Jonny's skin goes white, and Jonny swallows heavily, flushing slightly. Oh, right. That was a thing. Pat needs a moment to collect his thoughts amidst the haze of arousal and alcohol.

"Why did we break up?" Pat asks finally, meeting Jonny's gaze and holding it. "The week after I came back from Winnipeg, you said you couldn't handle this any more," Jonny replies, looking a bit hurt at the memory.

"You left for Winnipeg for a week, right before fucking Valentine's Day too, and didn't even tell me! Then when you came back, you were acting so shady and you wouldn't even talk to me, did you think I wouldn't be upset?" Pat says disbelievingly.

"You walked out," Jonny protests.

"Not forever! I left the apartment to clear my head. You never came after me, and when I came back you were gone," Pat replies in a pained whisper.

"I didn't realize you wanted me to," Jonny murmurs, "What was I supposed to take that as other than the breakup it looked like?"

"I don't know, what a normal fucking person does when he needs some space for the night? Tell me something. What the hell was so important that you left Chicago for a week without letting anybody, especially me, your _boyfriend_ at the time, know? What was so important that you barely even talked to me for the entire week you were back?" Pat's winded by the end of it, staring at Jonny demandingly until he speaks.

"I didn't actually go to Winnipeg."

 _What?_  "What?" Pat says out loud.

"I didn't go to Winnipeg," Jonny repeats slowly, meeting Pat's gaze with a fierce glare of his own.

"So, what, on top of being a fucking asshole that entire week, you lied to-"

"I went to Buffalo."

"... What?" Pat says again, stupidly.

"Buffalo, Kaner. I went to go talk to your parents," Jonny's voice is resigned at this point, and a pit forms in the bottom of Pat's stomach as he starts to see where Jonny's going with this.

"You weren't going to-"

"Shut up, Kaner. Of course I was," Jonny interrupts him exasperatedly, and oh, shit. Pat is the biggest asshole on the face of the earth, isn't he.

"You left before I could even apologize," Jonny continues, finally getting it all out, "Before I could tell, no, _ask_ you, or say anything about it, you walked right out and didn't come back that night."

"I came back," Pat protests, but it's a lost cause at this point.

"I stayed up until one in the morning waiting for you to come back that last night. If you came back later than that, that's on you," Jonny replies drily, and looks away. His voice is pained and quiet when he speaks again.

"I love you and you threw that away."

"You asshole," Pat says quietly, and then something registers.

"You said you love me."

Jonny levels him with a gaze that could freeze the sun. "I know."

"Past tense?"

"No."

Pat's breath stutters as he looks at Jonny.

"Where does that leave us?" He asks weakly.

"Ball's in your court, Kaner." Jonny's reply is matter of fact, but Pat knows him too well. He can read Jonny's face like a book, and he knows Jonny's nervous. And he can't help but kiss him.

Jonathan freezes when Pat moves swiftly around the counter and throws himself at Jonny, wrapping his arms around his neck and winding into his lap. For a second, Pat's deathly afraid he's miscalculated the entire situation, but his worries melt away when Jonny's mouth opens beautifully under his and his arms reel him in like a hunter with his prize.

"Jonny, Jonny," Pat says his name like a litany, pressing his body into Jonny's desperately.

"Oh, god," Jonny pants into his mouth when Pat drags their hips together, and reaches up to run one hand through Pat's unruly blond curls, "God, I've missed you."

Pat can't string words into a coherent sentence anymore, honestly, so he settles for burying his nose into the crook of Jonny's neck and just breathing in shakily.

Jonny pulls Pat against his body even tighter somehow, and smooths his hair back for him as he works his hips over Jonny's slowly, relishing the friction and the contact.

When Pat looks up into Jonny's eyes, he's overwhelmed, lost in his reverent gaze, and how Pat was ever able to survive 11 months without this, he'll never know.

Pat's breathing is starting to stutter, and he's still grinding his hips up against the roughness of Jonny's denim-covered crotch tantalizingly.

"Fuck Kaner," Jonny groans out, "I'm so fucking- if you keep doing this I'm going to cream my pants by your fucking kitchen counter," and Pat lets out a startled cry at his words and comes.

Jonny strokes his hair and kisses his neck through the aftershocks, panting a bit, and abruptly stands up. Pat almost falls off his lap onto the floor.

"Bed," Jonny says, strained, and Pat can see the thick, contoured definition of his dick from where it's straining against the tight fit of the denim.

Pat would snicker, but he has evidence all over the inside of his boxers that says he's no better than Jonny. He keeps his mouth shut instead and drags Jonny to his bedroom by the hand, relishing the long-missed contact.

Jonny slams the door once they're in and pins him up against it, the intensity that he had only hinted at earlier in full force now.

"Kiss me," Pat whines, and reaches down to grab a handful of Jonny's ass. Wow, and there's another thing he's missed.

Jonny groans when Pat pulls him in by the ass and their groins touch once again, and leans in to capture his lips in another searing kiss. Pat's feeling giddy, dizzy by the end of it, and whether it's from Jonny, arousal, or sheer lack of oxygen, he'll never know.

"You should fuck me," Pat manages to grunt out against Jonny's lips amidst gasps, and Jonny lets out a strangled moan and pushes his clothed cock into Pat's thigh.

"Are you sure?" He strains, pulling back and looking at Pat.

"Yeah," Pat replies breathlessly, and swats at Jonny's shoulders until they've moved over to the bed. Pat gets there first and pulls Jonny on top of him, groaning as he slots perfectly between Pat's (wet) thighs and kisses him like his life depends on it.

"Patrick," Jonny says, awed, as he pulls back to rub his thumb over Pat's cheek.

Pat closes his eyes and leans into the touch like a cat, but opens his eyes and looks at Jonny once again as a thought occurs to him.

"We're going to talk about this, right?"

Jonny stares at him for a second as the moment is broken, blinks, and then just murmurs, "Yeah, Kaner. We'll talk about it later," as he begins to fiddle with the button of Pat's jeans, Pat shedding his shirt quickly and throwing it somewhere beside the bed.

And Pat doesn't want to assume, but- "Are we back together?" Jonny's hands still for a moment and he leans down to kiss Pat sweetly for a moment, incongruous with the situation but perfect, before moving back to his motions on Pat's jeans. Patrick closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the pillow as Jonny makes quick work of his jeans and pulls them off.

As soon as the cool air hits Pat's crotch, he groans loudly and squeezes his eyes shut as his dick makes its valiant attempt at getting up again. Jonny leans down and mouths at his clothed, wet cock while rubbing his thighs lightly up and down and Patrick moans at the warm sensation.

"Jonny, _please_ ," Pat cries out, squirming. Jonny's rubbing his denim-covered dick on Pat's bare leg and somehow, it's so hot. Pat reaches down and takes a handful of Jonny's hair, scratching and petting it lightly, and Jonny lets out a loud moan that resonates through Pat's boxers and sends a shiver to his cock. Patrick had forgotten about this too, but how, he'll never know. His grip in Jonny's hair tightens, and Jonny whimpers a bit before moving his hands to take off Pat's boxers.

As soon as Pat's completely naked, Jonny moves to unbutton his own shirt with trembling fingers, throwing it on top of Pat's own before going back to lavish attention to Pat's cock.

Pat lets out a sharp cry as Jonny takes him in completely, nose rubbing against the groove of his groin. He's enveloped in the hot, wet heat of Jonny's mouth between his legs, and his cock has most decidedly chosen to rejoin the party at this point, fully hard and wanting. Jonny pulls back to bob up and down at the tip a bit, swirling his tongue around Pat's slit in a way that means Jonny clearly remembers what drives him crazy. He's oddly touched.

Jonny surprises him even further with how much he remembers by reaching over without asking right under Pat's mattress into that weird crevice where he holds the lube and condoms, pulling two little individual slick packets and one obnoxiously colored novelty red condom out.

Jonny stares at the products in his hand for a second before rolling his eyes at Pat. "Really?"

"Hawks re-ohhhh god..." Pat tries to snark back, but cuts himself off in a moan as Jonny starts to circle his hole with a single slicked-up finger.

Patrick's getting impatient, whining as he tries to push back against Jonny's finger. Jonny reaches up and pins Pat's hips to the bed with his right arm before going back to teasing Pat's pucker with his left. Pat is panting by the time Jonny pushes his finger all the way in, and this is going way too slow for Pat's taste. He reaches down himself and slips a finger into his hole beside Jonny's, watching him go slack-jawed and wide-eyed as they both slowly thrust in and out of Pat's ass.

"Pat," Jonny breathes, and starts finger fucking him with a groan before slipping his middle finger in between his and Pat's index fingers. The sensation of Jonny's stromg, hardened fingers inside him, something Pat never thought he would feel again, is incredible and overwhelming, and soon enough, Pat's batting Jonny's hands away, saying, "You need to stop that if you want me to last enough so you can fuck me."

Jonny slowly withdraws, Pat's rim clinging to his fingers, and finally drags his own jeans and briefs off his legs, flinging them away with no care. He moves back to slot perfectly between Pat's bent knees and reaches over to roll on the condom. Pat peers between his legs, and frankly, this should look ridiculous. Jonny's cock is bright red within the confines of the rubber as he rolls it down, and it almost matches the color of the beautiful flush spreading across Jonny's chest and neck. Somehow, it's the hottest thing Pat's ever seen.

Jonny finishes rolling down the condom, slicking himself up quickly again, and reaches up to rub his flushed cheek with the dry side of his hand.

He sniffs. And then he sniffs again.

"... Kaner, are these condoms cherry flav-"

"They're good for blowies, okay?"

 _In theory_ , Pat adds mentally. He hasn't actually slept with anyone since he broke up with Jonny.

Patrick's laughter melds into a loud cry as Jonny thrusts in to the hilt in one smooth, fluid motion.

Jonny falls back down close to Pat's chest to capture his lips in a kiss as he begins to piston his hips slowly against Pat. Jonny definitely remembers even more about Pat, because sooner rather than later, he's hitting Pat's sweet spot with every single thrust.

"Fuck, _right there_ ," Patrick pants, keening on a particularly forceful thrust, and wrapping his arms around Jonny's neck to pull him even closer.

Jonny reaches down and wraps his hand around Pat's come-slick cock, tugging to the rhythm of his thrusts, and reaches up to whisper in Pat's ear in a filthy, throaty voice that has Pat in a haze.

"Fuck, babe, you're so hot, come for me," Jonny moans, and Pat could swear he has a Pavlovian response to that phrase in that voice, because just like he always has and always will when it comes to Jonny in bed, he reacts instantly by shuddering and coming again all over his stomach.

"Keep going, keep going," Pat chants, coming down from his sex high, and Jonny flips his hair back, panting, and drills into Pat's hole. Pat's surprised Jonny's lasted this long, and decides to put him out of his misery. He clenches around Jonny's cock experimentally, and that's it, Jonny's coming into the condom and Pat can feel the warmth. Against his better judgment, he finds himself wishing they hadn't used the protection as he yearns for the sensation of Jonny's come inside him as he pulls out.

Jonny kisses Pat's shoulder once before slumping beside Pat and attempting to catch his breath.

Pat looks up at the ceiling as he collects his thoughts, and, without looking down, reaches over to take Jonny's hand in his own. He can feel Jonny turning to look at him as he squeezes Pat's hand lightly, the sheets rustling beside him, before getting up and grabbing a wipe from Pat's bedside drawer.

And seriously, how the hell does Jonny actually remember where everything is?

Jonny tenderly wipes Pat's stomach and groin off without a word and chucks the wipe into the corner trash can before getting back into bed and rustling up into Pat's side.

"I'm sorry," Jonny says quietly, bowing his head into the gap of Pat's neck, and breathing steadily.

Patrick wraps his arm around Jonny and pulls him in tight, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head and that stupid prince hair Patrick has always loved so much. And it deserves to be said, doesn't it?

"I love you," Pat replies softly, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back on the pillow with a soft little _poof_.

"The ring's in my car still," Jonny continues, muffled, burying his face into Pat's shoulder further.

Pat's eyes snap open. "What?"

"I was never able to get rid of it. Couldn't bring myself to. It's in the glove compartment."

"Jon," Pat breathes, running his hand down Jonny's arm.

"It's yours when you want it," Jonny says, and then pulls up to look into Pat's eyes. "If you ever still want it."

Pat kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> Go Hawks! Here's my tribute to the hockey gods for game 5. #gaypornhard
> 
> Comments/reviews and kudos would be really nice if you liked it :)


End file.
